The Entity Pt. 01

There were no words to describe his surroundings or how he felt. The best he could conjure was – he existed.

A slight tingling in his being drew him. He could not define where he was drawn from or where he might be going. He only sensed a flowing, like water, down a steep hill where his being pooled in many places. In millions of places. Separate but connected by a thin ribbon he perceived as his lifeline.

After the first nanosecond he learned more. Much more.

*****

Tammy Spalding watched her screen closely this time. As lead IT specialist for this particular site, she sat at a secure terminal in the basement of the Akron banking building, just off Wall Street, trying to solve a perplexing problem. She wanted to watch it happen. She wanted to see the screen change. She was looking for a flicker or some other anomaly that might clue her in to what was going on.

Her first line of attack had been hardware. Changing out the terminal, she'd watched it boot up, go on-line, and wait for her password. After login, she'd let the terminal 'cook' a minute while she browsed the service order form confirming what was written.

Terminal 21 is not in sync with the other terminals in the building. Account totals vary slightly from those shown on all other terminals.

She'd been perplexed when, after changing out the terminal a third time, this time for a new one, fresh from its packing, the account totals still failed to agree with the other terminals she had access to in the basement accounting and vigilance offices.

Tammy pushed away from the desk and headed for the mainframe room on the 30th floor.

"Hi Bob. How are we running tonight?" she asked the gangly man in a rumpled and, in her opinion, dirty suit, as she stepped off the elevator and headed for the guarded door of the systems inner sanctum.

"No problems here, Tam," Bob responded as he stopped in front of her, "What's up? You got problems?" She inwardly cringed as Bob's eyes swept her body from the floor up, stopping at her breasts, as he waited for an answer.

As head of systems management for the east coast, Bob Nunn had last say and oversight of all system changes and problems. While his fiefdom was large, Tammy knew it was much larger in his own mind.

Wrinkling her nose, Tammy noticed again the air of staleness that seemed to follow Bob around. She'd bet his computer at home ran 24/7, but his shower saw action about twice a week. How he got this high in the corporate tower with his personal hygiene habits, and obvious general sleaziness, was the subject of much speculation among his gaggle of peons. The most popular speculation being some type of tangled web between himself and senior vice-president Mrs. Bunger, frumpy and over 60, who headed up systems deployment world wide.

She saw him hesitate as if contemplating staying to help out, and rushed to reassure. "It's just a terminal down in the dungeon. Bad data readings. I thought I'd scan the software and check the router."

His eyes bobbled a few seconds across her chest again before he looked up and replied. "Okay, Tam, be sure to call if you need anything," his lecherous grin caused a shiver.

Right she thought. She'd call him as soon as hell froze over and her boyfriend started picking up his underwear and socks after a shower.

"Sure, Bob, I'll do that," she answered as she tried to move between Bob and the wall without personal contact.

"You have my beeper number and home number, right?"

"Right, Bob, I do. I'll let you know."

Striding down the hall, she heard Bob call after her, "No matter how late, Tam, you can always call me any time you want."

Unconsciously she straightened her blouse and checked quickly that no lace was showing. It wasn't that she cared particularly, or felt she needed to; it was just that Scanner Bob left women feeling like their clothes were askew or missing altogether.

Break room talk, none of it serious, had it that Bob invented the latest airport anti-terrorist technology. The one that left people appearing naked when walking through a security checkpoint. Scanner Bob's wandering eye had exactly that same effect.

James, the door guard, just grinned, enjoying the moment entirely too much, in Tammy's opinion, as he buzzed her through.

*****

Linda slowed as she went into another long, gentle curve. Slipping the car out of gear she studied the exposed layers of sandstone as she drifted by slowly.

It started with small uncontrollable quakes in her legs. Next she was having trouble keeping her arms and hands steady on the steering wheel.

Then she saw it. A small white lightning bolt that scraped along for about ten feet in the yellow stone before ending in a deeply carved star where the right front fender of Michael's car had gouged into a small outcropping.

The telephone pole was gone completely. Searching, she saw it had been moved up to the top of the shoal, further away from the road.

Her foot quivered so badly she had trouble pushing the brake pedal to stop.

She sat, eyes closed tight, hands white knuckling the steering wheel and remembered.

'You know what I love about you, Woo?'

She recalled smiling over at him, eyes bright, and a feeling of absolute contentment.

'Why, it's that little lost Japanese school girl look you have about you.'

She could see her own smile turn to a belligerent laugh as her left hand went out to hit his right shoulder playfully.

'That's lust you dirty old gaijin. My grandmother warned me about you hairy, European apes.'

But then he'd glanced in her direction, melting her heart, her laugh puddled between them before evaporating into a contented sigh.

'What I really love about you, Woo, is the way you whimper when you're in my arms. Did you know you do that, Woo?'

Yes she did and it still made her blush. All he had to do was touch her and a little whimper of contentment would find its way up her throat. But that's not what she told him.

'It's because I'm always afraid of the big, hairy, gaijin. My grandmother always told me a gaijin would want only one thing from the beautiful, Japanese princess.'

'Oh yeah, Woo. What's that?'

She recalled how she'd giggled while answering, 'Why it's obvious. All gaijin want their little Japanese princesses to help them hold their, ah, chop sticks.'

They'd both laughed. It was a nice moment, snug and warm, encapsulated in the car while the rain competed with the windshield wipers.

But then everything had changed. She'd noticed the slight set of his jaw as the car swerved off the pavement. Then the smile returned as he pulled back on the pavement, turning to say something to her.

'What I really love, Woo, is you.'

Linda still sat, stiff backed, hands gripping the wheel as she recalled the sound of metal against rock. A solid crunch as the telephone poll split the front of the car. The heavy thud and pressure on her eardrums as it broke off completely falling on the car, crushing the roof between them.

Suddenly she felt a chill and pressed the clutch in.I'm sorry, Michael. I came to say goodbye but I can't find you here.

With that she let the clutch out a little too quickly and pressed the accelerator. In a small cloud of pea gravel and dust she continued her quest for the end of their journey.

*****

The second nanosecond brought a great understanding of many things. One of his pools materialized as a recalled image, just as his last dream. He could feel the control surfaces, read input from engines, here chatter in the cabin through small microphones designed to capture the last seconds of an airplanes life.

Then he found control. He discovered how to move things in his world. How to make things happen.

*****

Just east of Denver, United flight 1167 was grabbing for air after a high altitude take off from Denver airport. Captain Smith was watching his co-pilot make his first unassisted takeoff just as disaster struck.

With no warning, the entire electronic cockpit of the Airbus 300 went dark. Simultaneously, all fly-by-wire screens that had replaced mechanical gauges and controls, went black, the cockpit lights, themselves dimmed for night flight, turn off, and the squawk of Denver tower disappeared.

Captain Smith yelled over the noise of the cockpit at his co-pilot. "Let me take it, Dick."

Grabbing the yoke he pulled back slightly and was relieved to feel a normal response as the climb steepened. Easing off, he tested the rudder pedals and was rewarded with a slight wiggle.

As quickly as they'd disappeared, all screens and lighting returned to the cockpit. Denver tower was seemingly unaware of any anomalies onboard flight 1167 as they announced their climb through twenty thousand feet.

Clicking the com button, his voice shook slightly as he called Denver tower. "Denver tower. This is United 1167 heavy requesting clearance for an emergency landing."

A bead of sweat rolled down Dick's right temple as he scanned the cockpit for some unseen gremlin.

*****

Linda parked in front of the American icon sitting off the black asphalt parking lot to her left. Shinny stainless steel with a red neon OPEN sign hanging in one of the windows, a warm yellow glow beckoning her inside.

She couldn't help but smile as she pushed one of the two entrance doors and was rewarded with the tinkle of a small brass bell hanging just low enough to be hit by the door frame.

Her knees still weak and palms wet with sweat, she looked around for Leo.

A voice boomed from the far end of the counter in one of the few surviving 1950's American diners still in operation.

Leonid Gubinich, Leo to his patrons and his wife Nataliya, had emigrated from Russia to America in the 90's, just after the fall of the Berlin wall, in pursuit of the Great American dream, having grown weary of the Great Russian promise.

Ironically, that dream had materialized in the form of an old, dilapidated, diner Leo found languishing in a junkyard outside Jersey, slated for destruction and recycling. Five thousand dollars later and the diner, along with the Gubinich's, were westward bound as they watched over the two flatbed trucks that carried their dream to California.

A little help from the local hippie community that, interestingly enough, had no great fondness for the diner, but thought a Russian flipping burgers in an American icon, on the Golden Coast, was a hoot, and 'Leo's' was open for business.

One person in particular, too young to be part of the California hippie scene, played an important part in restoring the old diner's exterior to its current, pristine condition. Michael Manship had been biking south on US 101 when he came across several cars and pick-ups parked in front of Leo's dilapidated diner.

Having rolled his share of metal customizing cars with his friends, Michael took one look at the beat up stainless steel skin and fell in love.

Stepping inside he found a hodgepodge of workers doing carpentry work, covering counter stools, re-working the grill and deep fryers, slowly bringing the eatery back to life.

Leo offered him a burger and fries if he'd help out for the afternoon, and the rest of his senior year weekends, while attending UCLA, were spent climbing around the old diner, popping rivets, rolling and shaping stainless steel and watching the past come to life from the labor of his own hands.

Two years later, an appearance in the San Francisco Journal Eatery section, along with five stars, and Leo's had become the place on the west coast to sample 1950's style, fast food eats and be photographed. Golden coasters were suckers for a photo op.

Three years after that Leo decided what America really wanted was a redwood wrapped, single story, 1950's style motel. He'd gone to great lengths to find original orange and amber swag lamps to hang in each room. Button upholstered headboards for the beds and white Formica tables to sit under the swag lamps. Rotary dial phones and Sylvania black and white televisions completed the retro feel.

Sitting off to the right of the diner among the costal pines, the motel featured bed vibrators that would take a quarter and give you a fair re-creation of an L.A. earthquake, a closed circuit TV system that ran DVD's from the office showing only 1950's and 60's TV shows. I Love Lucy was Leo's favorite, but at night, TV greats like Lawrence Welk and Ed Sullivan could be enjoyed. Trekki's loved the place.

Just as Leo had embraced American pop culture as his own, so had California embraced Leo and his whacky ideas. Today, most people had to make reservations six months in advance to stay at the motel. Not Linda. Linda and Mike had always been welcomed.

"Where you been," boomed a heavily accented voice as Leo walked up to the register. "I expect you whole hour before."

Linda blushed a little at Leo's paternal outburst and stepped around the end of the counter where Leo surrounded her with one of his famous, Russian Bear, bear hugs. Her feet came off the floor as she was pulled into his barrel chest.

Stepping back, she wiped the start of a tear from the corner of her eye before replying, "I stopped to watch the sunset, Leo."

Leo wrung his hands in his apron and turned abruptly to stomp away behind the counter. Linda kept pace on the other side and took a stool at the far end where Leo busied himself shaking a fryer basket full of sizzling potato slices.

She idly flipped the play cards on a jukebox remote mounted above the Formica counter, waiting for Leo to decide to talk to her again.

She'd seen them at the funeral. They'd talked briefly but found more discomfort than comfort in their brief meeting, all of them more than a little lost for words. Leo had blustered and constantly went on about how 'this not right, something not right. This just like KGB.'

This was the first time Linda had returned since that day a year ago when the journey had ended just short of their destination.

"I know you." Leo burst into her reverie like a bull in a china shop. "You want potato fries, cheeseburger, no onions, extra pickle and very thick, chocolate shake. That be what fix you up good right now."

With that Leo had defined the end of mourning and was all set to turn Linda into a RussianMATb. She still wondered at how the California salad, cheese, and lemon twist seltzer water crowd, had embraced the high grease, high fat food, of Leo's.

Nataliya appeared at her elbow leaning in to give her a peck on the cheek. While Leo still carried a heavy Russian accent and broken English, Nataliya had studied English in Moscow while growing up and spoke it perfectly.

"We missed you, dear. The bear has been wrestles," she said, nodding in the direction of her husband.

"Nataliya, it's great to see you. I've missed both of you more than I can say," she said, accenting it with a gentle embrace.

Nataliya took Linda by the hand and led her off the stool and over to the corner booth that had just been cleared by a white-fold-capped busboy.

Linda followed reluctantly but settled in opposite Nataliya in what had always beenherplace attheirbooth.

It felt the same. It felt warm and inviting. It felt like a small piece of home without the hearth.

"So, are you still working for the Fed's?"

Linda nodded and toyed with another jukebox remote, flipping the play cards, always leaving the 2nd to the last card covered. As the one time youngest director in the Internet Crime Bureau, the federal governments answer to internet FBI investigators, Linda had earned some fame two years prior solving the 'On Screen Killer' murders.

A series of murders perpetrated by a bad man hell bent on revenge. A slightly visible scar could still be seen on the left side of her neck, an inch below her jaw line, from a bullet she'd taken during the investigation.

The Jaguar in the parking lot had been a gift of appreciation from two people that she still considered very close friends. When asked what they could do to show their appreciation for saving their lives, she'd refused. When, through her parents, they discovered Linda actually had no car in the one state that was car crazy, they decided to throw her into the fray with a little class.

Six months of insisting had actually brought Jack and Jan to Linda's doorstep where they'd handed her the keys personally.

Before further conversation, Leo appeared and plopped down a heavy, white china, diner plate with, what many Californian's considered, a work of art in itself – a perfectly prepared, Leo's diner, cheeseburger. An extremely thick chocolate malt was placed next to it.

"You eat. We talk more when finish Leo diner work of art."

With that, Leo took Nataliya's hand and urged her out of the booth leaving Linda to her thoughts.

*****

The next nanosecond had brought the world to him.

He'd found his eyes, most stationary, staring out in thousands of different places.

He could see strings of traffic on highways around the world. Thousands of people smiling and talking into their chat cam. He could read their text and knew who was being naughty or mean.

He watched over stores and babies, surgical procedures and newscasts.

He felt frustrated as an elderly man, Mr. Ener according to his bank data, was mugged after withdrawing fifty dollars from an ATM.

He learned government secrets from around the world and databases of names and information, birth records and ownership. Crimes and punishments.

An undeniable omnipresence.

Then he decided to act.

*****

In Beijing, China, a Red army General sat stoically behind a row of manned consoles watching the remote launch of China's Latest secret weapon.

While the American's had talked big of their laser capabilities and Star Wars, the Chinese had quietly bribed their way through walls of security and black projects until finding Carl Wells. Carl had access, and access is what the Chinese wanted. Carl soon learned they were willing to pay for that access and promptly informed his superiors.

After turning over more than two hundred photos and copies, in effect handing a 'how to build' manual to the Chinese, Carl enjoyed the ruse exactly one week.

Then, as if by accident, Carl's car slid off a rain slick road just outside Leesburg, West Virginia, a few miles from where he lived. The state trooper put it down as a blown tire. If he had paid closer attention he might have noticed the small, symmetrical hole at the tear point in the sidewall. Something very similar to the holes made by bullets as they sliced through practice targets at the firing rang.

The sleek, red, two stage rocket shot unhindered towards the heavens, supposedly carrying a communications satellite. In fact, the General thought, it carried one of the deadliest stealth weapons to be put in space that could melt a tank from orbit with pinpoint accuracy.

He smirked as he thought of the great American congress bickering over weapons treaties and the morality, or lack of, raining terror down from space.

Just as quickly his smirk turned to stunned amazement as the telescopic picture of his countries newest pride displayed a huge fire ball as the rocket and satellite both exploded into a million pieces.

*****

Linda curled on the pillows of her motel bed and leaned against the button tucked, padded headboard, alone in her room, looking at the small package. It was obvious what it was from the black, satin covered, box. A white envelope lay beside the box and she could make out Michaels handwriting, brusque and masculine, from where she sat.

'Woo' was all it said. Nataliya had taken the package from below the check-in counter after walking with her to the motel. "Michael, brought that up the weekend before," was all she'd said as she slid it across to Linda.

Laying a brass key beside the package, Nataliya watched as Linda hesitated before scooping the package, envelope and key off the counter.